


Pleasantly Surprised

by BisexualHannibalLecter



Series: Hannibal Bingo Prompt Fills [4]
Category: Charlie Countryman (2013), Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Twins, Angst, Cannibalism, Drinking, Explicit Language, First Kiss, Flashbacks, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Nigel Plays Matchmaker, No Incest, Sibling Bonding, Smoking, Will Graham Knows, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:21:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26181814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BisexualHannibalLecter/pseuds/BisexualHannibalLecter
Summary: It’s Hannibal.At least, Will thinks it’s Hannibal. Something about him isn’t right. His steps are a bit heavier, lacking the grace of Hannibal’s usual gait, and the way he carries himself as he approaches Will reads less as welcoming and more as intimidating. His hair is slicked back, but it appears longer, curling at his nape.“Hannibal?” Will asks.The man smiles. “Hello, gorgeous.”Not Hannibal.Definitelynot Hannibal.Or,Will shows up to Hannibal's house for dinner early and meets Hannibal's twin brother, Nigel. The ensuing evening is interesting to say the least.
Relationships: Hannibal Lecter & Nigel (Charlie Countryman), Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham & Nigel (Charlie Countryman), Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: Hannibal Bingo Prompt Fills [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1936564
Comments: 28
Kudos: 340
Collections: Hannibal Bingo





	Pleasantly Surprised

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this because I thought the idea of Nigel and Hannibal being twins was funny as fuck, but then emotions happened and it turned into this.
> 
> This whole fucking fic and how it turned out was a pleasant surprise and I'm a lazy bitch for titles so. Yeah.
> 
> Also! I imagine this in an AU where Nigel just stole the tape back and bounced when he realized Gabi was into Charlie instead of kidnapping him and almost killing him and shit. As far as the Hannibal timeline is considered, I kind of see this as an AU of season one where the procedural-type stuff continued and Will eventually found Hannibal out some other way, but by then Hannibal had already coaxed the darkness out of him too much.

On most nights like this, Will shows up on time. He feels awkward about showing up to Hannibal’s house earlier than agreed, and rude for showing up late, if even by a minute or two. He found himself with nothing to do in the two hours leading up to their dinner plans, though, so he drove to Hannibal’s house.

Will tries not to let his mind wander into the possibilities of what might happen during two hours alone with Hannibal, if anything, as he makes his way to the other man’s home. They had spent so many hours in each other’s company, tension and unspoken words simmering the air between them, and Will was beginning to wonder if it was just him. Surely, he thought, Dr. Lecter would have said something by now; just the slightest hint of an inclination towards pursuing something Will, or at least being attracted to him, but there had been nothing. If there had been something, Will had not caught on to it.

Will pushes the thoughts of romantic dinners and longing glances from his mind as he parks. Somehow, he could berate himself for the thoughts, for the desire, but he could not berate himself for experiencing these thoughts and feelings towards a man such as Hannibal. He wondered what it must mean to still struggle with loving a man, but not with loving a cannibal.

Will exits his car and heads for the door, knocking twice and waiting. Hannibal, usually quick to answer the door, does not greet Will. No one does. Will decides to try the door, finding it unlocked. It isn’t until he has stepped over the threshold that it registers in his mind— Hannibal never leaves his door unlocked. 

Hannibal had explained this to him one evening, when Will had been left waiting outside the locked front door for a good ten minutes, Hannibal unable to hear him knocking from his kitchen and Will unable to call him due to not yet having his home number. Hannibal had told him his doors and windows are always locked, even when expecting guests. Will had assumed this was for safety reasons, but those assumptions have since been thrown to the wind with the knowledge of what Hannibal really is.

Will proceeds into the main room with caution, glancing around him, as if there was a threat lurking in the shadows. All things considered, there just might be. Hannibal is a man of logic, plans, and routine. He wouldn’t forget to lock his front door.

Will makes his way through the bottom floor of the house, peeking into the living room, the dining room, the kitchen, but ultimately finding nothing. He pulls his phone out to call Hannibal when he hears heavy footsteps descending the stairs. He turns, rushing back into the main room, and he catches sight of the figure as they make their way down.

It’s Hannibal.

At least, Will thinks it’s Hannibal. Something about him isn’t right. His steps are a bit heavier, lacking the grace of Hannibal’s usual gait, and the way he carries himself as he approaches Will reads less as welcoming and more as intimidating. His hair is slicked back, but it appears longer, curling at his nape.

“Hannibal?” Will asks.

The man smiles. “Hello, gorgeous.”

Not Hannibal.  _ Definitely _ not Hannibal.

“Who are you?” he asks.

The man looks Will up and down. “Could be asking you the same,” he says, crossing his arms. The sleeves of the dress shirt stretch tighter than they do on Hannibal. His smile, in contrast to Hannibal’s more genuine or perfectly fabricated one, is crooked, and his voice is rougher.

Will is about to speak when he hears the front door open. He turns to see Hannibal standing in the doorway, looking displeased, his mouth pressed into a tight line as he looks at the door.

Hannibal looks up, catches sight of Will, and the annoyance melts away, a pleased sort of confusion taking its place. Then his eyes slide over to the man in front of Will, and the annoyance returns.

“Are those my clothes?” he asks, locking the door. He inhales deeply, and Will could swear he saw Hannibal’s left eye twitch. “Did you use my hair product  _ and _ my aftershave?”

The stranger chuckles. “Nice to see you, too, Hannibal. What has it been, five years? Six?”

“You are going to ruin my shirts,” Hannibal grumbles.

Hannibal’s doppelganger ignores his irritation, eyes flitting around the room and one hand fidgeting a bit with the lining of one of the pants pockets. “Do you—”

“There are no cigarettes in this house, Nigel,” Hannibal interrupts, turning away to hang his coat up.

“Oh really?” Nigel asked, raising a brow.

Will, still confused, finally speaks up. “Yeah, uh, sorry,” he says, catching the attention of both men. “Excuse me and all, but what exactly is going on? Why are there  _ two _ of you? You never mentioned…” Will looks at Nigel. “A twin? A clone? I’ll believe anything at this point, honestly.”

Nigel laughs, and Hannibal gives Will an apologetic look as he approaches them.

“Forgive my impoliteness, Will, I had every intention of introducing the two of you. I simply find myself a bit put off by unexpected company.”

Will swallows, feeling his face grow hot with something like guilt and shame, feeling as though Hannibal’s words were aimed at him. “Sorry,” he says.

Hannibal, understanding his misstep, backpedals immediately. “No, no,” he says. “Not you, Will. I told you, you are always welcome here.”

“And I’m not?” Nigel asks.

“You are,” Hannibal says, fixing him with a stern look. “But last time I checked, you were still in Romania.”

“Yeah, well, I went and fucked all of that up,” Nigel replies bitterly. “Now where are—”

“Nigel I  _ just told you _ —”

“Fine,” he snaps. Nigel turns and walks back up the stairs.

Hannibal sighs. “Where are you going?”

“Cigarettes,” Nigel replies.

Hannibal sighs again. “Apologies for my brother’s behavior. He can be incredibly petulant.”

“I heard that!” Nigel calls from upstairs.

There’s the sound of a door opening, and then dresser drawers being pulled out and shoved back into place. Will turns to Hannibal, who looks the least put together he’s ever seen him. He seems nervous, even, which throws Will off.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “So, are you two twins? You’ve got to be.”

Hannibal nods. “I did not know how or when to bring him up,” he says. “I thought I would wait until the next time we visited one another. I suppose that time is now.”

Will nods. “Is he staying for dinner?”

Hannibal blinks, looking lost. “Dinner? Oh, yes, dinner.” He purses his lips. “I had nearly forgotten. In any case, that is his decision, but I assume he will be staying.”

“Hannibal,” Will says softly. “How long has it been since you’ve seen him?”

“Five years,” he replies, echoing Nigel’s earlier estimation. “I went to his wedding and spent a week or so in Romania with him and his new bride.”

As if summoned by the mention of his name, Nigel strolls back down the stairs, cigarette in hand. He pauses halfway down the steps and raises the cigarette to his lips. Moments later he exhales a thick cloud of smoke and flicks ashes onto the hardwood of the staircase.

“What are you two on about?” he asks.

“ _ Nigel _ ,” Hannibal hisses. “Not in the house! And do not dump ash onto my floors!”

Nigel rolls his eyes and continues smoking. “Lighten the fuck up,” he says. “I’ll clean it up.”

“Are you using?” Hannibal asks suddenly.

Nigel frowns. “No.” He takes another drag. “Promise.”

“Swear it,” Hannibal demands.

Nigel’s frown deepens, annoyance morphing into anger. “Now that’s not fucking fair and you know it.”

“No, Nigel, what’s not  _ fucking fair _ is you showing up to my home completely unannounced,” Hannibal shoots back.

“He gets to do it!” Nigel points at Will. “I’m your brother! What’s the problem with  _ me _ showing up without fucking calling you first and making plans about it?”

“Will lives near here,” Hannibal replies. “Will is a common presence in my current life. You are not. You haven’t called me back in  _ weeks _ Nigel. I don’t hear a single word from you for days at a time.”

“Then why don’t you visit me? Why don’t you fucking show up in Romania and come find me?” Nigel asks. “Don’t talk to me about  _ visiting _ when you’re the one that left us!”

Hannibal’s expression softens. “Us?” he asks.

Nigel shifts his weight and his eyes flit around the room again. “Me and Gabi,” he says. “I was talking about me and Gabi.”

There’s a sadness in Hannibal’s eyes, and it almost scares Will as much as it pains him.

“No you weren’t,” Hannibal says.

“Fuck this,” Nigel says, turning and heading back up the stairs. “And fuck you.”

There’s the sound of stomping, and then a door slamming. Will and Hannibal both wince slightly at the noise.

“Should we…” Will begins to ask, looking over at Hannibal.

Hannibal shakes his head. “He needs to cool off. We should leave him be.”

Will bites his lip. “Are you saying that because he actually needs space or because you’re not ready to face him?”

The sadness in Hannibal’s eyes deepens, and Will is afraid Hannibal might start crying. He watches as Hannibal’s jaw clenches, and then the man pulls himself back together, suddenly looking as he always does.

“I didn’t mean—”

“It’s alright. He always needs some time to himself when he gets emotional,” Hannibal replies.

Will nods. “Should, uh, should I go? I don’t want to intrude.”

Hannibal shakes his head. “Absolutely not. I invited you for dinner, and I will carry out those plans. It would be rude of me to kick you out, especially after my brother and I fought in front of you. I’m sorry if it upset you.”

Will doesn’t know how to explain that it did and did not upset him, so he just shrugs. “It’s okay. I’ve been in the middle of family spats before, this was nothing. You should see my family reunion.”

Hannibal cracks a smile. “I think I would like to,” he replies.

Something about Hannibal’s response makes Will feel warm.

“Would you mind helping me in the kitchen? I’ll need to cook a bit tonight since there will be three of us. Given the way Nigel eats, there might as well be four place settings at the table.”

Will laughs. “Sure. Fair warning, though, my knife skills are garbage.”

Hannibal hums at that, leading Will to the kitchen. “My brother has never cared for how elegant a meal is,” he says, grabbing a large knife and offering it to Will. “And I would gladly sacrifice my culinary aesthetic any evening for your company.”

Will can feel his face heat up at that, but he tries to ignore it. Hannibal made a friendly compliment, that’s all.

Perhaps Will really had been missing it when Hannibal dropped hints. Perhaps Will was reading too far into things. Either way, he was too scared to risk the embarrassment to find out.

Will sets his thoughts aside and begins helping Hannibal cook, enjoying his presence as they work together in the kitchen, hoping for more evenings like this one.

* * *

Hannibal leaves Will to finish up dinner and makes his way upstairs. He feels rude, even though Will had been the one to shoo him off and insist he speak with Nigel.

He reaches the top of the stairs and decides to check his bedroom first. Upon finding it empty, he moves on to the guest bedroom, and finds Nigel sprawled out on the bed, still smoking. His hair is mussed, his shirt is wrinkled and half unbuttoned, and at some point he lost his shoes and belt. He also seems to have found the small crystal ashtray Hannibal keeps hidden away in the back of the nightstand, in which lay a spent cigarette and a small pile of ashes.

“Put that thing out and come downstairs,” Hannibal says. “Dinner is almost ready.”

Nigel grumbles, but otherwise ignores him, continuing to smoke.

Hannibal steps further into the room, watching as Nigel physically withdraws at every movement Hannibal makes.

“I’m sorry,” Hannibal says.

The cigarette is nearly lost to the bed sheets.

“What was that?” Nigel asks.

“I’m sorry, Nigel. You’re right, it was not fair of me to… I shouldn’t have tried to use that against you, it was wrong of me. I was worried.”

Nigel sits up. “Brings me back to what I asked; if you’re so fucking worried then  _ where were you _ ? Living it up in America while I stayed behind?”

“You had a wife, Nigel,” Hannibal replies, moving to take a seat on the bed.

“I still would have liked to see you!” Nigel snaps. “You’re all I’ve got fucking left, Hannibal. You’re my only family.”

“Uncle Robertus and Aunt Murasaki—”

“Never fucking liked me,” Nigel interrupts, taking a drag.

“You know that’s not true.”

Nigel’s shoulders slump. “I don’t,” he replies softly. “Gabi left me, Hannibal. She left me, and our parents are dead, and Mischa…” The anger in Nigel completely dissolves. “Even when I had Gabi, even when she loved me, I would have liked to have seen you. You’re all that’s left from when things were normal.”

“I know,” Hannibal whispers. “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel unwelcome. You're my brother, you’re always welcome in my home.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Nigel responds. “Shouldn’t have blown up in front of your boyfriend like that. Shouldn’t have showed up high. Shouldn’t have ignored your messages.”

Hannibal blinks. “Boyfriend?”

“The brunette. What did you say his name was? Will?” Nigel chuckles. “He’s handsome. You bagged a good one.”

“Will is not… We are not…” Hannibal purses his lips. “Will is a friend.”

Nigel raises a brow. “You look at him like that and call him a friend? Hannibal I haven’t seen you look at anyone like that since… God, I don’t fucking know. That pretty girl from your undergrad days? Clarice?” Nigel tilts his head, studying Hannibal’s expression. “Have you even tried to make a move yet?” he asks incredulously.

Hannibal blushes. “I have tried alluding to the fact that I—”

Nigel huffs. “You’re fucking hopeless.”

“What am I supposed to do, Nigel? Grab him and kiss him in a drunken stupor?” Hannibal replies sarcastically.

Nigel shrugged. “Worked pretty well for me.”

“I thought Gabi left you.”

“Never said it was fool-proof.”

They lapse into silence after that, the only sounds being that of breathing and of Hannibal drumming his fingers against his thigh.

Nigel looks over at Hannibal, watching his fingers bounce and tap and twitch, and he rolls his eyes. He pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, offering it to Hannibal, who only shakes his head in return.

“I shouldn’t. I don’t want to smell like smoke when we have dinner,” he says.

“Is this the doctor speaking or the lovesick asshole speaking?” Nigel asks, still holding the pack of cigarettes out for Hannibal.

Hannibal doesn’t answer.

“You care an awful lot about his opinion,” Nigel says, pocketing the cigarettes again. “That’s how I know.”

“Know what?” Hannibal asks.

“That you love him.” Nigel flicks ashes into the crystal tray and says, “You don’t give a shit what other people think about you. Not in a way that actually matters. You want people to see you in a certain way so that you can get away with both sides of your lifestyle.” Nigel pauses. “Does he know?”

Hannibal nods. “He knows. I tried to hide it, but he saw me for who I really am.”

“And?” Nigel asks.

“He stayed,” Hannibal breathes. “He’s had chance after chance to expose me, but he hasn’t.”

“So he loves you, too,” Nigel says matter-of-factly.

Hannibal’s eyes widen as he contemplates this.

Nigel sighs. “You are so fucking stupid. What am I going to do with you?”

Hannibal laughs. “Support me, I hope. Not too much, though. I don’t need you to play match-maker.”

“You sure about that?” Nigel asks, elbowing Hannibal in the side.

“I’m sure. Now let’s go, dinner should be ready by now,” Hannibal says, standing.

Nigel nods and puts out his cigarette, but pauses as he begins to stand. “Hold on.” He moves off the bed and onto the floor, reaching underneath the bed and pulling out a large book.

“What is that?” Hannibal asks.

Nigel picks the book up and drops it onto the bed. “A very large Romanian dictionary,” he replies.

“Why—”

“Look,” Nigel says, opening the book.

Hannibal’s brows furrowed in confusion at the sight. The inside of the book had been cut out, leaving a rectangular hole, in which sat a VHS tape. One of the plastic panels had been removed, leaving the film reel inside exposed.

“What is this?” Hannibal asks softly, setting one of his hands on the book. “Nigel, what did you do?”

“It’s a tape. The reason you didn’t hear from me for a while was because Gabi’s father ran me out of Romania with this tape. It’s footage of me and Darko taking out those people in the restaurant I told you about. Nicked it off the American that my darling ran off with.”

Hannibal nods. “Why keep it? Why not destroy it?”

“Because if that motherfucker Darko tries to take me down now that I’ve left, I’m taking his ass down with me.” Nigel looks Hannibal in the eye. “I need you to keep this safe for me,” he says. “It’s part of the reason I came. I trust you. And if I die, there’s an envelope with instructions on what to do tucked under the tape.”

Hannibal pulls Nigel into a hug, startling the man at first. After a moment, though, Nigel reciprocates.

“I’ll keep it safe,” Hannibal promises.

Nigel squeezes him tight. “Thank you.” He pulls away and closes the book, shoving it back under the bed for now. “I’m fucking starving. What’s for dinner? And  _ please _ tell me you have something other than wine in this fucking house.”

Hannibal chuckles. “I keep a few bottles of your favorite liquor tucked away, but you can’t open any of it until  _ after _ dinner. You will have a glass of wine or you will have water.”

Nigel groans, following Hannibal out of the bedroom. “You used to be fun.”

“I used to be reckless,” Hannibal argues.

“Ah, yes, how safe of you to commit serial murders and eat your victims,” Nigel says blandly.

“At least I indulge myself while sober.”

“The Chianti disagrees.”

Hannibal laughs. He feels warm and happy, a feeling that only grows and further consumes him when he and Nigel enter the dining room, finding that it is already set and their plates are in front of their seats. The door creaks, and Hannibal looks up to see Will walking through with three glasses and a bottle of wine.

Will smiles. “I was beginning to wonder when the two of you would come back down here. Everything’s ready except the desert, I’ve just pulled it from the oven.” He sets down each glass carefully and offers the bottle to Hannibal, who is still staring at him. “Are you okay?”

Hannibal shakes himself out of his thoughts, but the domestic bliss of the situation doesn’t fade. “I am fine,” he says, taking the bottle gently. “Thank you for setting everything out for us.”

Will smiles wider. “No problem.” He takes his seat. “Hurry up, I’m starving.”

Nigel takes his seat as Hannibal begins to pour their drinks.

“So, who’s for dinner?” Nigel asks casually.

Hannibal looks at Nigel like a deer caught in headlights.

“A very rude doctor,” Will says. “Not very fond of him, going off what I heard from Hannibal.”

Hannibal visibly relaxes and Nigel chuckles. 

“Yeah? What did he do?”

“I would rather not discuss such details at the table,” Hannibal replies, taking his seat. “I will be happy to fill you in later, though.”

Nigel hums. “Fair enough. Can I start eating, or are you still Catholic?”

Will snorts and Hannibal sighs deeply, eyes drifting shut.

“I am resisting the temptation to kick you out,” he says. “Eat.”

Nigel laughs and begins to eat. Will laughs right along with him, looking so content and amused that Hannibal all but forgets about how annoyed he was moments earlier.

* * *

After dinner, Nigel leaves for a smoke and Will helps Hannibal clean up.

“I think he’s sulking again,” Hannibal says, carefully placing the dirty dishes into the sink.

“I could talk to him,” Will offers.

“I can’t ask you to involve yourself in my interpersonal problems,” Hannibal replies.

Will shrugs. “Then don’t ask. Just let me get involved.”

“If he curses you out, do not say I did not warn you. I’m sure you understand him well enough by now to know not to push his buttons, though.”

Will nods. “I’ll be fine. You got this?” he asks, gesturing to the sink.

Hannibal waves him off, even as he is reluctant to give up his company. “Don’t worry about it,” he says. “I will probably be finished by the time you and Nigel come back inside.”

“Alright then,” Will says, slipping out of the kitchen. He heads to the back door, finding that it’s still slightly ajar. He kicks it open gently and steps into the backyard, spotting Nigel a few feet to his right leaning against the house. “Hey,” he says.

“Gotta ask Hannibal if you want one,” Nigel says, coils of smoke leaving his mouth as he speaks.

Will shakes his head and shuts the door. “I don’t smoke. I just came to see how you were. Hannibal’s worried—”

“He always is.” Nigel raises the cigarette to his lips. “Why are you out here?”

“Guess I’m worried, too.”

“What for?”

Will opens his mouth, then closes it. He shrugs. “You seem like you’re going through a lot. And maybe you don’t want to talk to Hannibal about it. I know discussing your problems with someone whose job is psychoanalysis can be frustrating.”

Nigel flicks ash onto the ground. After a minute, he says, “I lost my wife.”

Will glances down at Nigel’s hand, noticing he’s still wearing a wedding ring. A widower, Will guesses.

“Oh. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Not like that,” Nigel says. “She left me. Found someone she loved more.” Nigel’s frown deepens, and there’s a sadness in his eyes similar to what Will had seen in Hannibal’s eyes. “Someone who treated her better.”

“She left because you were a bad husband?” Will asks.

“For about half our marriage, yeah. She didn’t like what I did for a living. Didn’t like that I was starting to use, starting to party more. I should’ve paid more attention to what she wanted. I should’ve done better.” 

Nigel knows that  _ doing better _ wouldn’t have saved his marriage. He knew that everything was doomed the moment Gabi found out about who he really was, but he liked to imagine things a bit different. He liked to think that they had a chance. It hurts less than knowing they didn’t.

“What do you do for a living?” Will asks cautiously.

Nigel grins. “I’m just as dangerous as my brother,” he says. “But I don’t eat the people I kill. Just toss ‘em.”

“You’re both fucking murderers. Of course.” Will huffs. 

“Yep.” Nigel hums. “So are you just gonna talk my head off ‘til I feel better?”

Will shrugs. “Didn’t really know what I was going to do. Just thought I’d come out here and try to help.”

“I appreciate the effort.” Nigel takes a slow inhale. “You can fuck off now, though. I’m not really sure what I need to help me feel better, but I do know that looking at your pretty face for another minute is going to just make me jealous.”

Will raises a brow and tries to ignore the blush rising on his face. “Excuse me?”

“Not gonna try and fuck someone my brother likes. Feels weird.”

“ _ Excuse me _ ?” Will repeats, even more confused.

“Are you offended by the fact that I’m not going to drag you to my bed or in denial about my brother’s feelings for you?” Nigel asks, crossing his arms.

“I— I mean— Okay, first off, I thought you were straight.”

Nigel rolls his eyes.

“And second,  _ what _ ?”

Nigel groans and tilts his head back. “I swear to fucking God if you don’t go inside right now and kiss him I will set this fucking house on fire. I’ve never been so frustrated in my entire life, and I’ve barely known you three hours.”

Will blinks. “You’re fucking with me.”

Nigel sighs. “Nooo…” he says, sarcasm lacing his tone. “Goddammit, Will, just get in there.”

Will bites his lip. “Are you sure?” he asks. “I don’t want to trust you and then go and fuck this up, Nigel. I don’t think you understand—”

“I do,” Nigel says. “Believe me, I do. Now go in there and kiss him so I can get some sleep tonight. Or not, if you two decide you hate me and are very loud.”

Will blushes. “We’re not going to—”

“Sure you’re not. Just go kiss him, yeah? I’m gonna come in when I finish this,” he says, holding up the cigarette. “If you haven’t kissed him by then, I’ll slash your tires.”

Will fixes Nigel with an unconvinced look, and Nigel pulls out a switchblade.

“Try me,” he says.

That gets a laugh out of Will. “If this ruins my relationship with Hannibal, you’ll find that thing stuck in you.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Nigel replies, cracking a smile. “You remind me a lot of her.” As soon as he says it, he wishes he hadn’t.

“Your ex-wife?” Will asks.

Nigel nods slowly. “Before she found out,” he clarifies. “Wasn’t afraid to tell me off.” He says the word  _ afraid _ like he’s ashamed.

“I’ve got my eyes on a serial killer cannibal. You don’t scare me.”

Nigel barks out a laugh. “I’m sure we’ll make good friends, then. Or terrible ones. We’ll see.” He shoos Will away. “Now go. Let me enjoy my last cigarette of the evening in peace.”

Will rolls his eyes playfully at Nigel and steps back inside. He shuts the door behind himself and makes his way to the kitchen, where Hannibal is still washing and drying the dishes from their dinner.

Hannibal looks up, surprised to see that Will is already back. 

“That certainly did not take long—” 

Hannibal is cut off by Will’s mouth pressing gently against his own and the feeling of Will’s hands on his hips. Hannibal nearly drops the plate in his hands.

Will’s lips are mostly soft, a bit chapped from the weather, and he tastes of wine and their meal. Hannibal can still smell that hideous aftershave on him, but he doesn’t mind one bit. He’d drown in the scent as long as he got to kiss Will while doing so.

Will pulls back, scanning Hannibal’s face for signs of discomfort, and the adrenaline of the moment rushes out of him when Hannibal’s only reaction is a blank stare.

“I’m sorry,” he says, releasing Hannibal and stepping back. “I didn’t mean to—”

Hannibal is quick to set the plate aside and grab Will, cradling his head in his hands and pulling him in for another kiss. Hannibal parts from Will after several moments, seeking air, and Will’s lips are quick to follow.

Hannibal finds that he doesn’t much care for air when he has Will’s tongue in his mouth. He doesn’t much care for anything, really, except how Will tastes and feels and smells when he’s pressed so close against him.

“Hannibal,” Will whispers between kisses, backing him up against the kitchen counter.

“Will,” Hannibal replies in kind, voice just as soft and airy and reverent. He allows Will to box him in, to surround him. “Stay the night,” he requests. “Stay with me.”

“Yes,” Will says. He grins. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

There’s a series of hard knocks on the door to the rear of the kitchen, and a voice says, “You’re welcome.”

Will and Hannibal both laugh.

“Good night, Nigel,” Hannibal says.

“Good night,” Will chimes in.

“Night, you two,” Nigel replies from the hallway. “Keep the fucking noise down, please.”

Will blushes, looking scandalized, but still laughs.

Hannibal cannot keep the smile off of his own face. “Let me take you to bed,” he says. “Not for anything sexual, not if you do not wish for that. I simply want to hold you.”

Will hums and presses a kiss to Hannibal’s jaw. “Nothing sexual tonight,” he replies. “Only because I’m tired, and because I don’t want to spend my first time with you trying not to wake or bother house guests. I can’t promise I won’t tease you, though.”

Hannibal shivers and nods. “Teasing is acceptable.”

Will chuckles. “I wonder what else you’ll allow me to do to you,” he whispers. “I can’t wait to find out.”

Hannibal blushes and his pants become uncomfortable. “Will,” he breathes, hands drifting to Will’s waist.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Will says, batting his hands away and stepping back. He smiles cheekily and takes Hannibal by the hand. “Let’s go to bed.”

“What about the dishes?” Hannibal asks, allowing Will to pull him out of the kitchen.

“They can wait,” Will insists. “I’ll finish cleaning them in the morning if you let me take you to bed now.”

Hannibal smiles again. “Anything for you, Will.”

Will kisses him again, right there at the bottom of the stairs, and Hannibal forgets about the mess in the sink. All that matters is that he finally has Will, and that he is never letting him go.

* * *

Nigel takes his time finishing his cigarette even though there isn’t much left of it. He drops it onto the ground once he’s finished, crushing it under his shoe before heading back inside.

He stops at the door to the kitchen, lingering next to it as he listens. At first, he hears nothing, and then there is a soft conversation.

“Will,” Nigel hears Hannibal say. He sounds a bit out of breath. “Stay the night. Stay with me.”

“Yes,” Nigel hears Will reply. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Nigel chuckles softly to himself and knocks on the door. “You’re welcome,” he says.

He hears Will and Hannibal laugh, and then the couple bids him a good night, which he returns, before adding, “Keep the fucking noise down, please.”

Nigel smiles to himself when he hears Will laugh again and continues down the hall and to the stairs. He heads to the guest bedroom, beginning to undress as he crosses the threshold. He shuts the door behind him, not bothering to lock it. He knows Hannibal will knock first.

Nigel yawns and stretches before crawling into bed, moaning softly at how comfortable the sheets and mattress feel. He thinks about how large the bed is, and about how empty it feels, and the sheer bliss is partially ruined by the desire to have someone to share the space with. He twists the ring on his finger and sighs.

Some minutes later, his bittersweet reminiscing is interrupted by the sounds of Hannibal and Will stumbling up the stairs, no doubt all over each other. In what way, Nigel isn’t sure, but he isn’t keen to find out. He rolls over in bed and his thoughts drift back to what Hannibal said earlier.

_ Swear it,  _ he had demanded.

_ Swear it. _

Nigel had been so angry he could have punched Hannibal, could have fought him. It wouldn’t have been the first time. He tries to let the anger melt, let it float away, and it does. Nigel lets his mind wander to another bittersweet memory.

_ A little girl runs around in a garden, chasing butterflies. She laughs, even as she stumbles and fails to catch anything. Moments later, she is joined in the garden by a boy, who picks her up and dusts her off. _

_ “You’re going to ruin your dress,” he says, smiling. There is no disappointment or anger in his voice like there would be with his brother or his parents. There is nothing but love for the young girl. _

_ “I’m not!” the girl insists. “I just fell once!” _

_ The boy laughs. “Well, no more falling for today. It is time for dinner. Hannibal is helping Mother and Father set the table.” _

_ The girl pouts. “But I don’t want to go inside,” she whines. “Butterflies!” _

_ “You can chase them tomorrow,” he says, reaching for her. _

_ The girl crosses her arms and steps back, her frown deepening. “No!” _

_ The boy only chuckles. “If you come now, I’ll give you my dessert,” he offers. _

_ The girl lowers her arms, looking interested. “You promise?” she asks. _

_ The boy takes this opportunity to grab the girl, picking her up and balancing her on his hip. “Yes, Mischa, I promise.” _

_ Mischa squeals and giggles when she’s picked up, reaching up to wrap her arms around the boy’s neck. “You swear, Nigel?” she asks as he begins to carry her to the house. “Swear it!” _

Nigel smiles, just like he smiled back then.

_ “I swear.” _

**Author's Note:**

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